he is blood music, cars and hot satisfied women. he wears a whole bunch of labels stuck red and yellow to his overalls trouble, bad news, sex god, convict, racist pig, kiss me lips, ooh that ass, petty thief, the walking tattoo, that pieceoshit, eyes feet that follow, he is a smile, two inches higher than solid ground, he is women who shake out stockings under their skirts whenever he pulls out any three piece suit from the world, he won’t touch, never had to ask, but I am already gold, buying leather, letting my hair fly